Free A Million Versions of Right by Matthew Revert Page B

days but Nadia fucked that up the arse with a knife.
    I’m tired and angry.
     
    * * * * *
     
    People have a way of surprising you and sometimes this surprise is even a good thing. I arrive home in woeful spirits having spent my nightly train ride rehearsing polite yet hateful things to say to Nadia. Before I have a chance to unburden myself I am confronted with a parcel placed atop the doormat. It’s lovingly gift wrapped and addressed to me. My inner child is excitingly clicking his heels. There’s a card attached that says:
     
    Dear Michael,
     
    Get a good night’s sleep, okay!
    You can be such a baby sometimes.
    Don’t worry numb nuts, I still love you.
     
    This way we both win!
     
    Lots of love,
    Nadia
     
    I tear into the delicate package, unsympathetic to the time and care taken to wrap it. I’m dumbstruck. Entombed within is a simple set of headphones.
    “You like?”
    I look up. Nadia is leaning against the doorframe wearing nothing but one of my old, large t-shirts. A large smile beams from her face. She looks fucking good.
    “Now I can sleep in silence and you can sleep to your music.”
    The solution is so simple that I make a mental note to kick myself later for not having thought of it.
    “This is great! Thanks!” I can’t think of anything more appropriate to say. I feel light, as if a chronic constipation has been relieved. Nadia strides over with her arms spread wide, wordlessly imploring me for a hug. I fall into her arms and loose myself in her idiosyncratic odours, the odours that you only recognise and appreciate with time – individual like a fingerprint. We retreat to the bedroom and fuck painfully. Desperately.
     
    * * * * *
     
    After dinner we’re both relaxing on the couch; Nadia with her head on my shoulder watching television and me staring at the headphones, which I have now removed from the packaging. I try them on, prompting Nadia to reposition her head. Unconsciously, she doesn’t want to get in the way. The headphones feel incredibly comfortable. After a few seconds I barely know I’m wearing them. I can’t wait to lie back in bed and drift off, beautiful sounds feeding my starving ears.
    The late night news possesses a hypnotic monotony that has lulled Nadia to sleep. I roll with it by gently nudging her awake and suggesting that bed may be in order. I wave my new headphones at her in anticipation. Barely awake, she smiles at me with genuine warmth and love. The opposite of this smile would kill you dead.
    The bed sheets feel cold and smooth against my naked legs and the pre-sleep lamplight fills the room with warm ambience. Nadia and I engage in a mandatory hug, which ends the pre-sleep ritual. Unbeknownst to her, I silently fart several times. This is common. This is love.
    Nadia has rolled over onto her side as I plug the jack into the stereo. I carefully place the headphones on my head. I visualise a king being crowned and immediately curse my delusions of grandeur. I turn the stereo on and the mechanical sound of a preloaded CD whirs into life. As I lay back I flick the lamp off, the room is minutely illuminated by the stereo’s blue display. My finger easily finds the play button on the remote despite the lack of light. I could perform every function on my stereo remote in the blackest void. My tactile memory is strong.
    My anticipation drags the split seconds out as I wait for the first track to start. My eyes are closed, every atom in my body prepared for sustenance.
    Through the left headphone speaker a slapping noise fades to life. It’s not until the meaty groaning begins in the right channel that I become completely confused. I flick the lamp back on and stare at the stereo. The display indicates that the CD is playing. I skip forward a couple of tracks only to be confronted with more slapping sounds, more groaning. I remove the headphones in a mild panic. I strain my ears, hoping that somehow the sounds I’m hearing aren’t originating from the